A Pocketful of Ashes
by Ladytalon
Summary: Aris Boch's life changed forever when the Goa'uld came to his world... pre-series
1. Pocketful of Ashes

He'd been young then, barely nineteen summers, and too busy chasing after Deyla Moran through the trees to realize that something was wrong. When he'd caught her and claimed a kiss as his prize, the ground beneath their feet began to shake. "See? That just proves that we're meant to be together," he insisted with a grin and reached to pull her closer. Deyla laughed up at him, slapping his hands away playfully just as the forest floor lurched again. 

"What's happening?" she asked, accepting his hand as he helped her to her feet.

He frowned and held a finger to his lips, signaling for silence. Cocking his head, he could hear something that sounded an awful lot like… "Oh, my God." Releasing Deyla's hand he started to run back towards the city, only half-conscious of her following. He stumbled from the trees towards the edge of the cliffs and stared in horror down at the beaches where hundreds of his people huddled under guard of what he could only describe as soldiers. He'd never seen soldiers like this before – they all wore a strange kind of interlinking armor with metal caps on their heads. If he'd been better at his school lessons, then maybe he'd know who they were.

Deyla dropped to her knees beside him, her eyes full of the same fear that had to be in his. "Aris?"

"Stay here," was all he could think to say. He needed to find his family, and fast. His father would know what to do, just like always. "I'll come back as soon as I can." Aris ran the rest of the way into the city, trying to keep to the sides of the buildings and out of sight. Smoke rose from most of the dwellings, and the usually neat walkways were littered with glass, shards of metal, and stains that he refused to classify as blood. His own home looked as if a giant fist had slammed through the roof, and he ducked inside just as a group of the strange soldiers turned down their street. "Mom?" he called cautiously.

He found his mother in the next room, lying on her side. "Mom?" Aris asked again softly, fear turning his stomach to ice as he knelt beside her.

"Took…Riah. Find…find her, Aris. Don't let…don't let them take her," she gasped.

Tears threatened, and he knuckled his eyes viciously in an attempt to stop them from falling. "Mai'ma?" The thin material of her tan sundress was sodden with blood, the chemicals of the dye starting to turn the wet fabric a pale orange.

"_Riah_," his mother insisted, lifting a trembling hand up to touch his face. "Find her, Aris."

Aris swallowed past the knot in his throat. "Yes, Mai'ma," he choked, unconsciously reverting back to the childish form of address for the second time. He waited for her to speak to him once more, but she only smiled at him and closed her eyes. She didn't open them again no matter how hard he begged. Taking a deep, shuddering breath, Aris leaned over her and kissed her cheek as if she were only sleeping, and spread her cloak over her motionless body. He was climbing to his feet as the remains of the door exploded inward and three of the soldiers burst inside to point their staffs at him.

Minutes later he was thrown onto his face in the sand next to another group of families and Aris struggled to his feet, desperately trying to look for his little sister. One of the guards swung a staff that connected with his chin, hard enough to make the world spin before his eyes. "Stay down," one of the other men hissed at him, grabbing him.

Aris jerked his arm free and tried to lunge past the soldier guarding them, only to be struck down again by another blow to his face. This time, sharp pain above his left eye brought the spill of yellow blood on the sand and he pressed the heel of his hand to the wound with a half-articulated curse. "This one has spirit," said a voice with oddly distorted accents. "Bring him."

Strong hands yanked him to his feet and the butt of a staff slammed against the base of his spine. "Move, slave."

As he stumbled towards another group of Ilempiri huddled together at the shore's edge, Aris finally caught sight of his sister. He wasn't sure who the invaders were and what they wanted, but he knew that he'd die before he let anything happen to Riah. He'd made a promise, and he intended to keep it.


	2. Storm Before the Calm

Smoke rose around him, so thick it was hard to breathe. The invaders – whoever they were – had set fire to anything that would burn and everywhere he looked, an Ilempiri lay dead or dying. His younger sister huddled against him and Aris tried to soothe her by stroking her hair even as he kept a wary eye out for their captors. Riah's face was firmly pressed into his chest, her small frame trembling so hard it was a wonder she hadn't broken any bones.

Aris was surprised that she even had tears left to shed – after all that had happened in the past few hours, he simply felt hollow. The soldiers had began picking people from where they'd been gathered together on the beaches and a tall, strangely dressed man with glowing eyes had thrust his hand in the stomach of one of the soldiers, withdrawing something that strongly resembled the snakes that lived in the cliffs to the south of the continent. He'd watched in horrified disbelief as the 'snake' pierced the side of the chosen man's neck, burrowing inward… but then the man had vomited up the thing. Aris assumed that something had gone wrong, since their captors had immediately killed the man and dragged another up to try again.

He'd seen countless numbers of his people die without even getting a chance to defend themselves but he knew that some of the Elders hadn't been found by the invader who claimed to be their new god, or his soldiers. Tucking Riah under his arm more securely and placing a protective hand on the top of her head, Aris turned to look at the cliffs where he'd left Deyla – had she been captured, or killed? Whatever had happened, he hoped she was well away from here.

The twin suns beat down on them relentlessly, and he rubbed his tongue against the inside of his cheek in an effort to relieve the dryness in his mouth. They'd been forced to kneel in the hot sand for countless hours, breathing in the smoke that rose from the ashes of their homes, and more than one captive had collapsed from dehydration. "Stand," one of the soldiers barked, thumping him across the shoulders and nearly knocking him onto his face. Aris brushed a hand across the gash above his left eye to assure himself that it hadn't started to bleed again, and helped Riah to her feet as the others obeyed the order.

They were herded through the smoking ruins of the town, and Aris narrowed his eyes in disbelief as their route led to the huge cisterns high on the hill. His momentary confusion that they were finally being given water cleared when he saw that the invaders who had killed so many of his people were dumping something into the water supply. The one with the eyes that glowed looked at them with a slight smile, as if he knew just how desperately thirsty they all were. "Drink," he commanded.


	3. Pale Shelter

The hand knotted in his hair pushed his head below the surface of the water a third time, holding him there longer. This time his lungs were burning and he couldn't keep from gasping for air even though he knew it would cause him to take in the poisoned water. Aris thrashed against the soldier's hold, trying desperately to rear back so he could breathe, but another pair of hands held him down. He couldn't hear Riah's voice over the roaring in his ears, and the pressure around his lungs kept increasing. He could see the spreading clouds of the poison as it slowly dissolved in the water, the bright blue liquid swirling around him as the bubbles of air – _his_ air – disturbed it. His vision grew dim and the stuttering throb of his own pulse was the only thing he could hear as he finally lost consciousness.

A sharp pain in his scalp recalled him to awareness and Aris hit the ground hard, retching up the water he'd inhaled. He pushed himself to his hands and knees, still heaving, and looked around for his sister. Riah looked terrified, choking on the water she was being forced to drink – after seeing a number of the older youths nearly drowned after refusing, the children were plainly too frightened to resist any further. When they were herded back to the beaches to wait for whatever it was they were waiting for, Aris settled himself beside her protectively, feeling strangely light-headed. The sun burning his skin, his sore scalp, and the ache from being beaten seemed to fade slowly. His entire body felt strange, almost like it did when he'd 'borrowed' some of his father's homemade liquor and drank so much that it made his head spin.

He swayed slightly, the urge to lie down and sleep almost overwhelming. _It's what they put in our water_, he thought sluggishly. Riah's head kept bobbing as she fought to stay awake, but before long her chin rested on her chest and she slumped over against him. _What did they do to us?_ Aris struggled to keep from sleeping so that he might learn something about his captors that might help him escape later, but the heaviness in his limbs made it so hard to keep upright… he leaned against Riah and closed his eyes, telling himself that he'd only rest for a few minutes. 


	4. Fortune's Hostage

It had been several weeks since Aris had last seen his sister – they had been separated from each other when he'd been chosen to be sent into the naquidah mines and he hadn't found anyone who could tell him exactly where Riah was

It had been several weeks since Aris had last seen his sister – they had been separated from each other when he'd been chosen to be sent into the naquidah mines and he hadn't found anyone who could tell him exactly where Riah was. Just like Deyla, he had no idea if she was alive or dead – she might have never even existed. His days were empty of everything but work, pain, and the growing need for the tiny blue packets of liquid that were added to the water brought to them below ground. Through listening and asking questions that were too often answered with a jab from the prods, he'd learned more about the invaders who had destroyed his world and enslaved his people; the ones with glowing eyes were the Goa'uld, the soldiers were known as Jaffa, and the blue liquid the Ilempiri had been addicted to was roshnah.

Aris used his time in the mines to think, one way to take his mind off the naquidah dust that clogged his lungs and the unending labor that drained his strength and left him too exhausted to even sleep when they were allowed downtime. At the end of each interminable shift it was all he could do to crawl beneath one of ledges of rock chosen for a sleeping area, lying awake and thinking of his family. He hadn't heard anything concerning his father's fate, but rumors of continued resistance to the Goa'uld made Aris convinced that Rion Boch was still alive. The belief was abruptly justified when he was unceremoniously pulled from the water line one evening and dragged before one of the lesser Goa'uld. "This is the one, my lord Ba'nal," the Jaffa announced.

The Goa'uld shifted indolently on his perch, and Aris glanced down at the pitted surface of the council chamber's floor so that the monster wouldn't see the hatred in his eyes. "You have a father," Ba'nal announced.

"So does everyone else," Aris snapped back, unable to keep the anger from his voice.

One of the Jaffa stepped forward with a staff weapon but the Goa'uld occupying his father's chair shook his head slightly, motioning to a nearby pain rod instead. Bracing himself, Aris gritted his teeth when the prongs caught him in the small of his back and sent waves of agony flooding through his body. "Your father is said to be one of the Elders. You will tell me what I wish to know," Ba'nal said smoothly. The rod was jammed into his side again and again, until the resolve to keep silent evaporated and Aris cried out in pain. When it was finally withdrawn, he struggled to his feet only to be knocked back to his knees.

_If I could just get out of here…_

"Where are the rest of the Elders?"

And there he had it. Taking a cautious breath, Aris raised his eyes to meet Ba'nal's and schooled his expression to show polite deference. "If you let me go, I can find him for you." Ba'nal gestured, and another Jaffa entered through a far door with a hand clamped around the upper arm of…

"You also have a sister."


	5. Trade Value

The young man picked his way through the charred husks that were once called trees, ever conscious of the small complement of Jaffa escorting him in the search for his father

The young man picked his way through the charred husks that were once called trees, ever conscious of the small complement of Jaffa escorting him in the search for his father. Aris wasn't sure if his father would even be there, but hopefully he had remembered and more than just the elder Boch would be waiting. Aris had learned to hunt in the forests, following the trails his parents laid and tracking them to wherever they had hidden from him; even as devastated as the once-lush forest was, there was still enough cover to conceal a small army.

Catching a flash of color off to one side, Aris glanced back casually at the following Jaffa to see if they'd noticed. He saw other hints of movement out of the corner of his eye as his 'escort' plodded along in ignorance, and he suppressed a smirk at hearing the low trill of a bird that could only be found on the northern continent. When it came again, Aris took the hint and dropped to one knee, rolling off the path as several men charged from the scant cover along the side of the path and burst through the undergrowth to surround the Jaffa. The first blast of staff weapon fire slammed into the trunk of a tree directly beside him, and Aris rolled away to grab a handful of dirt, flinging it into the eyes of the closest Jaffa – the soldier staggered and Aris lunges forward to knock t he man's feet out from under him, wresting the staff weapon away and bringing it across the Jaffa's chin to render him unconscious.

"You made enough noise for two herds of Car'rach." A big man dressed in silvery-black armor came forward and addressed him sternly. "I thought your mother and I taught you better than that."

Aris felt the first true smile in weeks start to spread across his face. "You did, Father."

Rion Boch enveloped him in a brief, rough embrace before pushing Aris to arm's length to examine his son's bruised face. "That's quite a scar you've got above your eye," he said quietly.

Shuffling his feet, Aris swallowed hard against the lump forming in his throat. "Yes, Father." For one horrifying moment, he thought he would disgrace himself by bursting into tears, but Rion released his chin and bent to pick up one of the staff weapons while the other men busied themselves with dragging the Jaffa's bodies out of sight. Aris looked down at the toes of his boots and blinked rapidly until the urge to cry had passed. Taking a deep breath and trying to calm down, he looked over at where his father was still fiddling unnecessarily with the staff weapon. "Riah, she's a prisoner. But Mai'ma - I mean, _Mother_, she…she…"

Rion Boch pushed himself back to his feet, running a hand through the same coppery hair that stuck out wildly on Aris' own head. "I know, Aris. I was on my way back from the trade meeting when I felt your mother die." He paused, then placed his big hands on either of Aris' shoulders. "It's good that you're looking after your sister like she asked you to."

"It's not good at all," Aris admitted. "Ba'nal threatened to kill Riah if I didn't bring you to him, and I thought…"

"Thought what?"

"Well, I thought you'd have a plan," Aris stammered. His father looked ready to laugh, but how could he think this was funny?

"It just so happens that I do," the older man said calmly, all traces of amusement wiped from his face. "I'm going back with you."


	6. The Best Laid Plans

"Here's what we're going to do," Rion advised, settling an arm around his son's shoulders. "From what we've learned so far, Ba'nal represents another named Sokar. If we play this right, we'll be able to deal with the…thing…that's holding your sister as a hostage."

Aris wasn't sure how that would be accomplished as easily as his father thought it would be, and said so. "So'kar might not even be here," he pointed out. "And if he isn't, that means he'd be far more likely to bring more Jaffa here to kill the rest of us."

His father shrugged. "That's always a possibility. But if he's not here, it'll be easy enough for us to set up a little 'misunderstanding' about Ba'nal."

Frowning thoughtfully, Aris looked down at the ruins of their city. For as far as the eye could see, Goa'uld ships and the army of Jaffa dotted the landscape and herded his fellow Ilempiri like animals. Privately, he just couldn't see what difference it would make – they were outnumbered and outflanked – but anything was better than simply sitting back and giving up. "What kind of misunderstanding?"

"If you were as powerful as this Sokar is supposed to be, how would you react when you found out that your 'representative' was keeping a stockpile of naquidah for his own use?"

Visions of a shadowed figure using a pain rod on Ba'nal made Aris glance up at his father with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "I would kill him."

When they had finalized their plans and were walking down to the city, Aris couldn't help but feel that something was about to go very, very wrong. It didn't make sense for Ba'nal to simply wait for Sokar to pass judgment upon them; there was something his father hadn't yet revealed. When he'd asked about it earlier, Aris had been told to trust him and not to worry. _Not worry. Right. _Biting back the urge to ask about it once again, he followed his father's lead.

As they approached, several Jaffa lowered their staff weapons and formed a loose circle around them. The Jaffa escorted them to the Hall of Elders, and Rion made an angry sound in the back of his throat at the sight of what the Goa'uld had done to a place that had once been a symbol of fair justice for their people. They all were tired of referring to things in past tense, Aris thought to himself.

Ba'nal stood, eyes flashing yellow-white as he – _it ­- _looked down at them. "Where are the Jaffa that were sent with you?" he asked coldly, gesturing to a nearby soldier whose forehead symbol was limned with gold.

"Do you even care?" Rion countered when Aris opened his mouth to speak. "They were overcome quite easily-"

His words ended in a grunt as a Jaffa behind him knocked him to his knees, and Aris shifted uncertainly. This wasn't what was supposed to happen, why was he provoking it? Stepping forward quickly, Aris lowered his head just enough for Ba'nal to think it was a gesture of deference. "I've done what you asked, I brought him for Sokar," he blurted, hoping that the mention of the other Goa'uld would make this one's judgment of his father less hasty. "Please, may I see my sister, my…my Lord?" Aris asked, nearly choking on the honorific.

He'd been full of worry for Riah ever since seeing her as Ba'nal's captive and though he was terrified for his father's safety, Aris knew that he needed to look after his little sister first. At Ba'nal's slight nod, two of the Jaffa blocking the exits stepped aside to reveal Riah. She darted forward immediately upon seeing their father, but was stopped by a hand clamped around her upper arm. "Take her away," Ba'nal said negligently.

"Aris?" Riah whispered, eyes wide and frightened as she looked from him to the elder Boch kneeling with a staff weapon pressed against the back of his neck.

Aris tried to reassure her that everything would be all right, but he could only stare back at her mutely as she was shoved back in the corridor and the Jaffa moved to cover the exit once more. The thundering of his pulse was all he could hear as he forced himself to turn back around, but the sound of a staff weapon blast shocked him into full awareness. "Father!"

This wasn't supposed to be happening – they were supposed to be waiting for Sokar to be summoned, and then they would tell him that Ba'nal had been stockpiling naquidah…this wasn't supposed to be happening. Aris fell to his knees beside his father, willing this to be nothing more than a bad dream. When he slid a hand beneath the older man's head, the sticky dampness of blood cruelly confirmed the reality of the situation. Rion Boch was still breathing, but only with great effort; the staff blast had struck him in the stomach and he'd cracked his head against the stone floor of the council chambers when he'd fallen back. Pain-narrowed brown eyes looked up into anguished green as his father gripped the front of his tunic with fingers that still seemed as strong as ever. "Aris."

It was as if someone had a grip on his heart and was squeezing for all they were worth. "Not you too, don't go," Aris begged.

His father summoned a tired smile. "Only a matter of…of time."

"But-"

"Your Mai'ma and I were…" Rion began to cough weakly, and Aris wiped away the yellow flecks of blood on the older man's lips. "We were Joined, you know…know that."

Aris ducked his head, viciously gnawing on his lower lip to keep from crying. _Not where __**it**__ can see me, I won't do it, I won't…_ "Don't go," he whispered helplessly. The grip on his tunic began to loosen, and Aris pressed his father's hand in place roughly.

"You'll manage."

He could feel the pulse under his fingertips growing steadily weaker, and shook his head. "I can't."

"There's…there's not much choice," Rion said with another tired smile. "Remember where we taught you." His eyes drifted closed.

"Father," Aris insisted.

"Peace, youngling," his father sighed. "Araie waits for me."

Rion Boch relaxed into the grip of his final sleep and Aris placed trembling fingertips to his cheek in farewell. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ba'nal shift on his stolen throne and hatred momentarily forced grief away. One day, the Goa'uld would pay for what they had done.

tbc…


End file.
